


City Boy

by writergrump



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: City Boy!Dan, Country AU, Domestic, Egobang - Freeform, Farm Boy!Arin, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Stardew Valley AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergrump/pseuds/writergrump
Summary: Stardew Valley is a tired, tiny old town in the middle of nowhere. Dan’s a city boy from Jersey, coming to watch his grandpa’s house for a few weeks, but perhaps there’s more to see in the small town than he expected. He's certainly got a lot to adjust to, beginning with the country boy who's lived here all his life.





	City Boy

As Dan pulled up to the small and slightly crumbling building, he glanced down at his phone to make sure he was in the right place. Putting his car in park, he scrolled over the Google Maps app, but yes, he was here. The town hall of this tiny, dusty town in the middle of nowhere.

Getting out of his car, he blinked in the afternoon sun. Well, his grandpa had left the keys to his house at the town hall with the mayor, so he was here to retrieve them.

Dan pulled out his wallet as he entered, prepared to talk to a secretary and show his ID to be let in to see the mayor. He was  _ not _ expecting to see a tiny hallway with some people standing around chatting, all wearing overalls and boots.

They turned as he entered, and he felt somewhat self-conscious in his leather jacket and ripped jeans, but then one man stepped forward with a huge grin and a friendly demeanor. The man wore a flannel shirt rolled at the sleeves and jeans, appearing very comfortable.

“You must be Dan!” he said, clapping Dan’s shoulder in a familiar way. “Welcome to Stardew Valley!”

Dan blinked, surprised. “How’d you know my name?”

“You look just like your grandpa, give or take a few years.” The man guffawed, and the others chuckled. Dan shifted, unsure of how to respond. Then the man dropped a set of keys in Dan’s hand. “Here you go. He dropped ’em off a few hours ago, before he left. So you’re watching the shack while he’s gone, huh?”

Dan couldn’t believe this man had just  _ given  _ him the keys. What if he’d been pretending to be him? Where was the credential check? “Uh, are you the mayor?”

“Yep. Brian Wecht, call me Brian.” He stuck his hand out, and Dan shook it hesitantly. “Good to meet you. You’ll be here awhile, so just c’mon over to my place if you ever need help. Can’t miss it, it’s the red house on Main Street with the yellow flowers out front.”

This was the oddest exchange Dan had ever had. “Um, okay. Thank you. Can you tell me how to get to my grandpa’s place? He didn’t give me an address.”

Brian chuckled. “Can’t miss it. Follow Elm down till you see the river, take a left. It’s by the old grain mill. Edge of the forest.”

Dan was at a loss. “O...kay.”

Brian’s eyes twinkled, as if he knew he was messing with Dan. “Good luck running the farm. Granted, it’s not as big or grand as it used to be, since Max is getting up in years. But you’re young and strong, maybe you can clean it up a bit.”

Dan didn’t know how to respond to that, but then Brian glanced outside. “I’d better get going. The coyotes like to come out when it gets dark.”

Fear flashed in Dan’s eyes. “Coyotes? Is it dangerous?”

To his surprise, Brian threw his head back and laughed. “No, but I need to get my chickens in before they come out. Relax, you’ve got nothing to worry about. See ya, Dan, don’t be a stranger.”

With that, Dan was left standing in a tiny building that didn’t even look like a town hall, clutching a dusty set of keys, now mildly concerned about his time here.

_ What the fuck have I gotten myself into? _

~~~

 

After only a few missed turns and quite a few more swear words, Dan finally found his grandpa’s farm, parking in the dirt driveway. It certainly wasn’t big, and a bit old and dirty, but it brought back long ago memories of Dan as a kid running around playing. How long had it been since he’d been here? Ten years? Twelve?

He opened the door without much difficulty and glanced around, faint memories springing up as he looked around the house. A small living room with a giant TV, a quaint kitchen with stained tiles and untidy shelves, and a small hallway leading to two bedrooms, and a bathroom at the end of the hall. It was small, but familiar.

Dan paused at the entrance to the guest bedroom, where he and his sister had stayed countless summers as kids. There was one twin-sized bed against the wall, with an oak dresser and bedside table. A patchwork quilt covered the bed, and a small worn rug rested in front of the dresser. A child’s dollhouse was propped on a small table in the corner beside the closet door.

It was just as Dan remembered it.

He shut the door and glanced at his grandpa’s room, deciding to check in there later. The bathroom was small but clean, with a disorganized medicine cabinet and doilies set up on the toilet. A towel hung over a bar by the shower, which had a frog-patterned shower curtain. A soft green bath mat sat beside the shower. The sink had knobs to turn on the water, and they squeaked as Dan turned them to wash his hands. Rust was creeping along the bottom of the sink.

The living room had a worn old couch, with the giant armchair beside it that Dan fondly remembered to be his grandpa’s. A bookshelf was shoved against the other wall beside the TV, crammed full of old novels Dan had heard of but not read. A wooden coffee table sat in front of the couch, covered with a couple candles and magazines Dan didn’t recognize. The living room was the only room with carpet--a plain off-white, trod down with use, and had small stains permanently embedded into it by countless dirty shoes.

Beside the front door was a coat rack and several pairs of boots covered with dried mud, and a dirty welcome mat. Dan made a mental note to vacuum sometime.

The kitchen was an organized mess, to put it nicely. The shelves were crooked and the counters had different jars labeled “flour,” “sugar,” and “brown sugar.” Glass panels hung over the window in front of the rusted sink, and atop the glass were small figurines of different animals. Plaid curtains hung on the sides of the window, and the refrigerator was a small one with metal handles; its metal’s shine was nearly rubbed off. A lone cloth rug with frayed edges sat in front of the sink, and the pantry had a wooden sliding door that opened with difficulty to reveal a jumble of canned goods and boxes of dried food.

Dan wheeled his suitcase in, setting it inside the guest room and collapsing on top of the bed. He stared at the wooden ceiling fan, and got out his phone to see what time it was.  _ Nearly six.  _ He noticed he had no cell signal, and made a mental note to go outside when he called his parents back in Jersey.

A small pang of homesickness hit him, but the musty smell of his grandpa’s house was stirring a lot of nostalgia. It had been ages since he’d visited; when he’d turned twelve, he’d refused to come here for a few weeks in the summer, wanting to stay in the city to bum around with his friends. He’d never visited again.

He still had no idea why his grandpa had insisted he should be the one to watch his house while he took a vacation for a few weeks.

Nevertheless, Dan had agreed, so here he was. He supposed he should think about dinner, and calling his mom to let her know he’d made it safely to a tiny town with less than 300 people living there.

As he got up, he heard a short rap on the front door. Confused, he walked over and pulled the door open, ready to tell the person that his grandpa wasn’t here and wouldn’t be back for a few weeks.

He was _not_ expecting to come face-to-face with a man around his age, wearing a dirty shirt and faded overalls with mud-splattered boots. The guy had brown hair yanked up into an untidy ponytail, with the beginnings of facial hair on his chin and upper lip. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and Dan couldn’t help but to take note of his muscular build and strong arms. 

The guy smiled, his eyes not quite reaching Dan’s face. “Howdy. So you’re watchin’ old Max’s place?”

Dan was taken aback, but nodded. “Yeah, I’m Dan. And you are…?”

The guy blinked, as if he weren’t used to that question, and mumbled: “Name’s Arin. I live on the farm opposite the creek. My ma sent over some food, since we’re neighbors and all for a bit.” Arin held out a wicker basket Dan hadn’t noticed before, and he took it hesitantly.

“Uh, thanks.”

Arin shrugged, shifting slightly, and Dan realized he was uncomfortable. “Least we can do. It’s a lot of work runnin’ a farm. Give us a holler if you need anything, okay?”

Dan found Arin’s country accent oddly charming, noticing that it was a lot more pronounced than Brian’s had been. Perhaps Brian hadn’t lived here all his life. “That’s very generous of you, I appreciate it, Arin.”

Arin rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling, “No problem.”

Dan was on the verge of inviting Arin inside, but then Arin took a step back, eyes flicking over to the setting sun. “Better get back before nightfall. Good t’meet you. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Okay,” Dan stuttered, and shut the door as Arin turned and walked, relaxed, across the dirt road leading to the river.

Dan set the basket on the kitchen counter, pulling out a homemade apple pie, still warm, some fresh tomatoes and peppers, and a couple jars of homemade jam. He was touched, as the neighbors seemed much more friendly than the ones back home. Hell, the most interaction he’d had with his neighbors was uneasy eye contact as the neighbor smoked a cigarette outside the apartment complex.

Stepping outside on the front deck, he pressed the speed dial to his mom’s phone, waiting for her to pick up.

She answered on the second ring. “Did you find your grandfather’s house, Dan? How are things in that little town?”

Despite himself, Dan smiled. “I think it’ll take some getting used to, but...Stardew Valley is just like I remember it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out at my tumblr, writergrump!
> 
> (There will be future chapters.)


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